The Potter and the Kettle Black
by An Acolyte
Summary: Another Sirius talks to Harry in Little Whinging Story. AU Prisoner of Azkaban onwards. Will incorporate canon from all six books.
1. Chapter 1

**The Potter and the Kettle Black**

_Another Sirius talks to Harry in Little Whinging Story. AU Prisoner of Azkaban onwards._

_I do realize that this has been done a hundred times before. My favorite versions are probably Midnight Guardian and Grim Dawn. But I wanted to take a crack at it as well. _

**Chapter 1**

Harry was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall on Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk. He sat quite still, anger still surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart.

But after ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion overtook him: panic. Whichever way he looked at it, he had never been in a worse fix. He was stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go. And the worst of it was, he had just done serious magic, which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts. He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic officials weren't swooping down on him where he sat.

Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. What was going to happen to him? Would he be arrested, or would he simply be outlawed from the wizarding world? He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his heart sunk even lower. Harry was sure that, criminal or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help him now, but they were both abroad, and with Hedwig gone, he had no means of contacting him.

But he could still go to the Burrow, the Weasleys' home. The Weasleys had not returned from Egypt, but he would still be able to enter the house, and he did not think the Weasleys would mind if he stayed in Ron's room until they returned. The only question was how he would get so far. Last summer, Ron and his brothers, Fred and George, had come to get him in a flying car and they had flown for most of the night to return to Ottery St. Catchpole. That certainly wasn't an option tonight. He would have to find another way to travel.

He didn't have any Muggle money, either. There was a little wizard gold in the money bag at the bottom of his trunk, but the rest of the fortune was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London.

Unless…

He looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. If he was already expelled (his heart was now thumping painfully fast), a bit more magic couldn't hurt. He had the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father – what if he bewitched the trunk to make it feather-light, tied it to his broomstick, covered himself in the cloak, and flew to Ottery St. Catchpole?

Then he'd wait for the Weasleys to return and… begin his life as an outcast. It was a horrible prospect, but he couldn't sit on this wall forever, or he'd find himself trying to explain to Muggle police why he was out in the dead of night with a trunkful of spellbooks and a broomstick.

"I guess I'm off to the Weasleys' then," he said to himself, to break the silence of the night.

Harry opened his trunk again and pushed the contents inside, looking for the Invisibility Cloak – but before he had found it, he straightened up suddenly, looking around him once more.

A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel he was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.

He bent over his trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clenched on his wand. He had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was emerging from the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him. Harry squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then he'd know whether it was just a stray cat or – something else.

"Lumos," Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes bounding towards him.

As the creature approached him, more cautiously as he came closer, Harry realized that this was the largest dog he had ever seen. It was black, its fur was ragged, and even in the dark, Harry could tell that it was utterly emaciated. That was no wonder, after all. No one on Privet Drive would feed a stray; it was remarkable that no one had called the authorities on it yet. But the strangest thing about it was its fathomless grey eyes, which were fixed on Harry's face as though transfixed.

"Here, doggy," Harry said uncertainly. The dog whined mournfully, and came closer. Harry petted it, not sure of what he was supposed to do, but definitely unwilling to anger such a large creature.

He went back into his trunk, looking for the cloak once again, and located it below his copy of Fantastic Beasts. He pulled it out and started to shut the trunk, but found that the dog had inserted its muzzle, looking inside.

"Come on. I have to get out of here. The Ministry's after me."

The dog yelped rather violently at that, and Harry took the chance to shut the trunk. But as he moved to put on the cloak it approached him once again, tugging at the cloak.

"Hey, let go. It was my father's. It's all I have left of him."

The dog whined again.

"Yeah, I know. I feel like that too. But I really do have to get going, you know. And I really can't take you with me. I don't think we can share a broomstick."

Harry turned, draping the invisibility cloak over himself. Before he drew the hood he turned back, to say goodbye to the dog, when before his eyes, it turned into the filthy, gaunt figure of a man with long matted hair and sunken eyes, wearing robes that were practically falling of his body. When he spoke it was in a voice that was scratched and broken from years of screaming.

"There's a better way to travel than that, Harry."

Harry stared in shock, instinctively drawing his wand.

"You're that man, Black. You were on the news earlier. How do you know my name? Did Voldemort send you after me, or Malfoy again?"

"I don't work for Voldemort."

It was rare enough for Harry to hear that name spoken, for apart from himself he had only known Professor Dumbledore to use it. What he had never heard, however, was the bitter and icy contempt in this man's voice in speaking the name. Whatever else he was, and Harry could by no means discount him as a threat, he was no minion of the Dark Lord.

"Why are you here then? How do you know me?" he asked again.

"I... you look just like James. It's like none of it ever happened, to see you standing here like this."

"You knew my father?"

"He was my closest friend... my brother."

"Why were you in prison, then? Why haven't you come to see me before, when I was little?"

"I've been in Azkaban for a very long time, Harry. Didn't they tell you anything about me?"

"I've never heard of you in my life."

"I suppose once they locked me away they thought you didn't need to remember. I'm your godfather, Harry. James wanted me to take care of you if anything happened."

"Is that why you're here? Because I can't go back to the Dursleys again?"

"I just wanted to see you, Harry. What are you doing out here at night? Why are you leaving your aunt and uncle?"

"I had to," he said disconsolately. "I blew up my Aunt Marge, Uncle Vernon's sister. I couldn't help myself, she said my mother had bad blood and that my father was a drunken wastel. I just... she just blew up like a balloon and started to float away."

Black just laughed. It was an unexpected sound, not the hollow, hacking sound that Harry might have expected from his voice, but rich, and infectious, if Harry hadn't been quite so miserable.

"It's not funny. I'll be expelled; the Ministry's probably after me already."

"You really are just like your father. He did the same thing when anyone said anything about Lily."

Harry looked up. Black was smiling, a true smile, and his face was transformed by it. All of a sudden, Harry glimpsed something familiar in that smile.

"I've seen your picture. You were at my parents' wedding."

"Yes, I was James's best man."

Harry was filled with a hundred questions that he was bursting to ask. Here was someone who knew his parents, who had been best man at their wedding, his godfather. He started to speak, but Black interrupted him.

"Put on your hood, Harry, and hide the trunk under it."

Harry didn't think to question Black, and sat on the trunk, making sure it was completely covered. He looked back towards Black, but saw that he had turned back into a dog, and was sniffing at the hedges quite convincingly. A moment later, he saw why Black had instructed him to hide. Half a dozen wizards in matching khaki robes were patrolling the street with lighted wands. Harry knew that they had to be looking for him; they must have appeared at the Dursleys' house once they traced the magic. Harry was very glad that he had not been in there when they had come for him. He wondered just what they had made of Aunt Marge, and what state they had found her in.

The Ministry wizards evidently didn't really expect to find Harry still in the neighborhood. They were walking at a rapid clip, and their scan seemed to be fairly cursory. Even so, Harry was a bit nervous as he realized how close to the pavement he and his trunk were. He couldn't really afford to move it at this stage, in case it made a noise, or a corner showed through by accident, so he remained in place, hoping for the best. It was a bit of a close call, but Black barked at just the right moment, and distracted the wizards, who moved on to the street in evident apprehension of the large, if underfed, dog. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when it became clear that none of the wizards would manage to stub their toe on the invisible trunk. He looked on as they passed through to Wisteria Walk, and then, saw the lights disappear as they left, having called off the search.

"That was a bit of a close call. We'd better get out of here in case they return."

Black had reappeared before Harry, seeming to know exactly where he was sitting. Harry pulled off his hood once again. If it occurred to him for a moment how odd it would be for any of the Muggles who looked out of their windows to see a bedraggled escaped convict talking to a disembodied head, he shelved the thought to focus on more immediate matters.

"You're coming with me?"

"You'd rather I didn't?"

"No, look, I... you just saved me, and it's not that I don't appreciate it, but, maybe I'm not the best judge of character. I mean, last year I trusted this stupid diary and that turned out to be a sixteen-year-old Voldemort, and the year before that I never suspected that Professor Quirrel had Voldemort sitting on the back of his head just because Snape was going around being a great big git as usual..."

"Wait a minute, what's all this about Voldemort? He's not back, is he? They don't exactly keep us up to date on the news in Azkaban."

Black said it lightly, but there was a shadow of something in his voice that reminded Harry of the previous year, when Hagrid was being taken off to the prison as a precautionary measure. He remembered the fear in Hagrid's voice, and wondered for a moment what exactly it meant to have spent so long in Azkaban.

"No, he hasn't. He tried to come back my first year by stealing by stealing the Philosopher's Stone, but I went after him, and they've destroyed that now. Last year was just a diary in which he had implanted his memories of Hogwarts."

"You've escaped him three times already? Just like James and Lily."

He said it wistfully, as though he were still in mourning. Harry was again tempted to ask this man about his parents, but he also held on to his own doubts.

"Look, I really have to be going now. Umm, thanks for everything."

"And you really don't have any reason to trust me, so you rather hope I'll take the hint and fade away. You're probably right. But I can't let you go where you're planning to just like that. I'm going to have to try and convince you."

"How do you know where I'm going?" asked Harry, suddenly feeling a bit apprehensive.

"I was listening when you were talking to yourself. That's why I came closer; I hadn't planned it like that.I just came here to have a look at you and then head on back up North, but when you mentioned the Weasleys I couldn't just let you go. Not by yourself."

"Why not? The Weasleys are great; Ron's my best friend. Even if I can't go back to Hogwarts they'll help me. Once they get back from Egypt, that is."

"Harry, you're not going to get thrown out of Hogwarts. This will blow over; it's just accidental magic."

"Yeah, but I already got a warning last year, and that wasn't even me; it was a mad house-elf. You saw how they were looking for me!"

Sirius sighed.

"Harry, they wanted to make sure you were safe from me."

"You know, if that's your reason for why I should go with you you're going to have to do a lot better."

"You've got your father's sense of humor. And your mother's stubbornness, if I'm not mistaken. Look, Harry, it's a long and ugly story. I wasn't really planning on getting into all of this with you. I escaped from Azkaban to commit the murder I was imprisoned for, and as soon as that's taken care of the ministry can have me, for all I care. I just want to make sure that you're safe from that rat."

Harry stared at Black, wide eyed.

"You're completely bonkers."

Black smiled, but this was a wretched, haunted parody of the smile Harry had earlier seen.

"Oh no, I'm as sane as I ever was. Much to the surprise and the disappointment of the wizarding world, I'm sure. They think I'm after you. They think I betrayed your parents to Voldemort. They think this is all my fault – and I suppose they are right about that."

Harry felt a wave of nausea as he heard this admission, yet he could not look away from the sunken hollow pools that were Black's eyes. He had done it again, he supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind. He had decided to trust an unknown convict instead of letting the Ministry wizards take him, and now he was trapped on a dark street with a man who had just admitted that he had led Harry's parents to their death. Somehow, Dumbledore's words from his first year came trickling back to him, but he simply did not feel ready for death, the next great adventure.

"You betrayed my parents?" he asked, in a sort of horrified awe.

Black's eyes were suspiciously bright now, and if Harry had thought about it he would have realized that he was blinking back tears.

"I as good as killed them, Harry. They trusted me. They asked me to be their secret-keeper. I could have kept them safe from all the world. And I told them to switch. I delivered their fate into the hands of a man who betrayed them to Voldemort."

"And that's why you were in Azkaban?"

"Not exactly. They think I killed Peter Pettigrew. Poor brave Peter Pettigrew, who was mad with grief for the Potters. Lying, betraying Peter Pettigrew, who blew up a street full of Muggles and framed me for his murder."

"So he killed himself?"

"If he had I don't think I would have bothered escaping. No, he just cut off his own finger, transformed into a rat, and ran away into the gutter. That finger was the largest piece they ever found of him. And he's been living as a rat ever since, while I've been rotting in Azkaban."

"Do loads of wizards turn into animals, then? I've never seen anyone do it."

"McGonagall hasn't transformed for you yet? She's an animagus; she'll show you sometime, if she's still at Hogwarts. But it's not very common at all. It's just something your father and Peter and I did, while we were at school. It was a secret. We needed to, to help a friend. But nobody knew Peter was capable of such a thing. Nobody would have suspected."

"So that's why you can get around? Because no one knows you're a dog either?"

Sirius nodded.

"But what does this have to do with the Weasleys? Why can't I go to my best friend's house?"

Sirius scrambled around in the pocket of his filthy robe, and took out a crumpled and stained piece of paper, torn roughly around the edges, and handed it to Harry.

"Yeah, that's them. They're in Egypt now. The house must be empty, but that's okay. They won't mind, and I'm used to being by myself."

"No, look, Harry," said Black, pointing at Ron.

"That's Ron, my friend. What's the matter, why are you pointing at him?"

"Not him. Look at the rat."

"What, Scabbers? He's just a stupid rat."

"He's not just any rat, Harry. Look at his left foot."

And Harry looked, as though for the first time. And sure enough, the rat had a toe missing.

"But that's impossible! That can't be your friend. He's been in the same dorm as me for the last two years. And he was Percy's rat before that. Why would he stay like that? He's never done anything to me."

"He wouldn't, if there wasn't anything in it for him. He didn't have a master to serve. But he's biding his time. Why do you think he's in a wizarding home, in Britain?"

"Look, I don't know if I can believe you."

"If I were making up a story, Harry, I think I could do better than that."

Harry snorted. "That's probably true."

"So you believe me, then?"

"Well, maybe I won't call the Ministry just yet. But if Scabbers is who you say he is, why can't I go to the Burrow? He's not even in the country right now."

"He will return, Harry, and I don't want you any nearer him than I can help. Besides, he'll be worried enough when he sees me with you."

"Wait a minute, I never said you could come with me."

"I'd like to see you try and stop me, Harry. Besides, why would you want to? Padfoot's charming."

"Is that what you call yourself, then?"

"It's what your father used to call me. But you should call me something else in public. There are still some people who know that name."

"What should I call you then?"

"Snuffles."

"Snuffles? That's a silly name for a big old dog like you."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

Harry considered for a moment.

"Snuffles it is, then."

"Good."

"Where are we going, anyhow?"

Sirius considered for a moment.

"We could go to my house, I suppose. I heard my darling old Mum is finally dead. But I'd really rather not. Or we could just go to the Leaky Cauldron for the night. Unless you'd rather go all the way to Hogsmeade? They really do have the best butter beer there, and Rosie's a lot nicer than old Tom."

"Hogsmeade? Really? I thought I'd never get to go there!"

"Why not? You're a third year, aren't you?"

"My uncle didn't sign my form. He said he would if I behaved myself in front of his sister. And then I went and blew her up, and had to run away. There's no way he'll let me go now."

"So you'll have to take the secret passages, then. You have the invisibility cloak, what's the problem?"

"There are secret passages out of Hogwarts?"

"Loads of them. I'll tell you all about them, later. We should really get going."

"How are we going to get all that way? It takes the Hogwarts Express nearly a whole day."

"We'll take the Knight Bus, of course. Didn't I tell you earlier? It's a bit jumpy, but it's a lot easier than two people to a broomstick, I'll tell you that much."

"The Knight Bus."

"Yeah. Look, just stick out your wand, like that, right. Hold on, let me just..."

He disappeared, and the great big hulking dog appeared once more in his place. Harry stuck out his wand, just as Black had showed him. And sure enough, a second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to halt exactly where Harry had just been lying. They belonged, as Harry saw when he raised his head, to a triple-decked, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering of the windshield spelled The Knight Bus.

A conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was just after dawn, and Hogsmeade was still slumbering when the Knight Bus appeared with a bang a little ways outside The Three Broomsticks. The bus disappeared with another violent jolt, and had any of the nearby residents been looking out of their windows at that hour they would have been treated to the sight of a dark-haired boy dragging a Hogwarts trunk and pointing his wand at a large black dog.

It was just as well that none of the Hogsmeade locals were looking or listening, or they might have found it rather odd that the savior of the wizarding world was talking to a dog as though he expected him to understand what he was saying. And had they actually understood the implications of the conversation they would have been all the more troubled.

"A wizard and a dozen Muggles with one spell! And then you just stood there and

laughed?"

The dog whined plaintively, trying to come closer to Harry, who thrust his wand out again.

"No, look, I did what you said, all right? I'm not at the Weasleys, so you don't have anything to worry about. And, listen, I won't turn you in or anything, but you know I can't just believe you like that, not after what they're saying. I have to know if you're telling the truth first."

The dog whimpered, but didn't come any closer.

"Now, don't do anything foolish, all right? If Scabbers really is what you say, we'll figure something out, but don't go after Ron or anything."

Harry wasn't really sure why he said that. He certainly wouldn't normally consider giving advice to grown men, but it seemed a little different when it was a dog standing in front of him, and besides, something told him that even if Black was innocent, he was most certainly capable of being extremely reckless. The low throaty growl he heard in response to his words was sufficient corroboration.

"You'll be around town, right? Look, I just need to figure out what's really going on here. I'm not saying I don't believe you, but after what's happened to me before I really need some proof, all right?"

The dog whimpered again, but backed off, seeming to understand what Harry was saying. Harry put his wand away and gave it a small wave before dragging his heavy trunk across the road into The Three Broomsticks. Already he was starting to feel a little guilty about not allowing Black to come with him. The man claimed to be his godfather, after all, and it was clear he hadn't eaten properly or even entered a warm room in a very long time now. And if he really was innocent, Harry couldn't imagine what it would be like to have spent twelve years in prison. But then, Harry had felt sorry for Tom Riddle last year, for being an orphan forced to go back to his Muggle orphanage, and by trusting him he had put Ginny's life in jeopardy. After what he had read in the Daily Prophet, he really didn't know what to think. It didn't seem possible that the Ministry of Magic would make such an enormous mistake as to put the wrong person in prison. If Black really was innocent, hadn't he said so at his trial?

Harry dragged his trunk over the inn's threshold, stubbing his toe.

"Ouch!"

A woman looked up from the bar counter, where she was cleaning glasses. As she came closer, Harry realized that she wasn't as young as she had seemed, but in her form fitting robes and sparkling high heeled sandals, she was remarkably attractive. This must be the Rosie whom Black had mentioned. As she caught a glimpse of his face, her eyes widened in an expression that Harry had come to expect since he had first entered the wizarding world two years before.

"By Merlin, if it isn't Harry Potter! We weren't expecting to see you in here until later this year. Welcome to The Three Broomsticks, Mr. Potter. I'm Madam Rosemerta."

"Erm, thanks," Harry smiled, a bit uncomfortably. He had never gotten used to being the center of attention.

"Will you be staying with us, Mr. Potter? You can leave your trunk; I'll have it sent up to your room. What brings you to Hogsmeade?"

"I... erm, I needed to talk to some of the teachers up at Hogwarts. I don't think they allow students in the castle during summer."

Harry was improvising rapidly, and he didn't think his explanation was terribly convincing, but Madam Rosemerta nodded and seemed perfectly satisfied.

"Let's get you settled in, then, dear. You're looking rather tired. How did you come all this way?"

"The Knight Bus."

"Oh dear, you can't have gotten a wink of sleep all night! I'll make sure you're nice and comfortable here, and then you can see about getting up to the school after you've rested. Would you like a spot of breakfast first?"

"Thanks," said Harry gratefully, realizing just how hungry he was. He found himself a table while Madam Rosemerta magicked away his trunk and returned with a plate overflowing with a hearty Scottish breakfast. Harry dug into his eggs and bacon and ate his roasted tomato and black pudding with relish. As Rosemerta returned to refill his pumpkin juice, Harry caught a glimpse of Black, curled up in dog form in the little village green next door. He felt another pang of guilt as he looked at the substantial meal he was polishing off when it was perfectly obvious that this man, his godfather, was practically starving.

"Erm, Madam Rosemerta, d'you see that dog out there, on the green? Is it possible to get him some breakfast, too? He's really hungry."

Rosemerta looked out at the large, emaciated creature, and turned back to Harry.

"I haven't seen him around. Is he yours?"

She sounded slightly skeptical, and Harry knew she must know that dogs weren't allowed up at Hogwarts.

"Not exactly. He just sort of found me when the bus dropped me off. He's really friendly, he wanted to come with me, but I didn't know how you felt about dogs."

"Well, we can't have strays running around the inn, that's for sure, but if we have some scraps, I'll take them outside for him."

"Erm, actually, can you get him a full breakfast, just like this?" Harry asked. "I'll pay for it," he added quickly, as Madam Rosemerta gave him another funny look. Her face softened.

"You're very like your mother, has anyone ever told you that?"

Harry, who had heard far more about his startling resemblance to his father, and their mutual prowess at Quidditch, shook his head.

She smiled at him, and went on back to bring out another plate of breakfast, which she took outside to the large black dog. Harry watched through the window as Black yelped in surprise, and then slobbered over Rosemerta's hand, making her laugh coquettishly.

"He's quite a character, that dog of yours," she said, smiling, as she came back inside.

"That he is," Harry nodded, as he looked out of the window, watching the dog devour his breakfast as though it was his first hot meal in years. Which, of course, it probably was.

When Harry woke up from his nap, well rested, it was late in the afternoon, and he realized that he'd slept for nearly eight hours. He sat up in bed, bleary eyed, and reached for his glasses. Hedwig gave a soft hoot, and came up to him and nipped his ear gently.

"Good girl. How did you know I was here?" he asked, not expecting a reply, as he petted her.

"She's a clever bird, that one. Arrived in the room before your trunk was sent up, even."

Startled, Harry looked around, and saw that it had been the mirror on the dresser that was speaking.

"Slept long enough, haven't you? Better go downstairs. Rosemerta will be wondering where you've got to."

Harry examined the room properly for the first time. It was warm, cheerful, and comfortable. His trunk had been conveniently placed for him, and he had a window looking out towards the Forbidden Forest. He would be far happier here than in his bedroom on Privet Drive, which still bore the marks of being Dudley's second bedroom. Still, he didn't want to sit up here in his room alone chatting with a mirror. He decided to take its advice and head downstairs.

There were more people in the bar at this time, chatting noisily at their tables. Harry went up to Madam Rosemerta, who was tending the bar counter.

"There you are, dear. Did you have a good nap, then?"

"I did, thanks."

"Good. Were you thinking of heading up to Hogwarts now?" She looked outside, a slightly worried look on her face. "It's not too far, but the path runs right by the forest. I'm not so sure it's a good idea for you to go alone now. It might be late by the time you get back here."

Harry's resentment at Rosemerta's treating him like a child was quickly overcome by his relief that he would not have to come up with some excuse for heading to the school immediately.

"That's all right. I'll just go tomorrow morning."

Rosemerta brightened.

"Yes, that's perfect. Shall I get you something to drink, then?"

"Erm, no, thanks. I think I'll go for a bit of a walk. Just 'round the village; I won't go far," he added quickly, seeing Rosemerta's face.

She nodded sympathetically, "Yes, I suppose you need the fresh air. And I think you'll enjoy some of our Hogsmeade shops, too. Just keep your eyes open. You can't be too careful with someone like Black on the loose."

Harry nodded as he made his way towards the door, his guilt at neglecting Black surging again. He had reacted to Stan Shunpike's exaggerated description of Black's ruthlessness and lunacy with instinctive panic, yet in its barebones, was not the story consistent with what Black himself had told him earlier on Wisteria Walk? Hearing the same fear again in Rosemerta's voice, Harry realized that while their fear was not unreasonable, he, Harry, knew something rather crucial that they didn't. Whether or not Black was telling the truth, he had already managed to corner Harry in a dark Muggle street at night. Had he wished him any harm, he could have done so already.

Harry wandered through Hogsmeade absently. At any other time, he would have been fascinated by the shop fronts, and emptied all the gold in his pockets at Zonko's and Honeydukes. But today there was far too much on his mind, and Black's face leering from every blank wall in Hogsmeade only reminded him that anyone who actually looked at Black would just see a bedraggled emaciated dog that would never do them any harm.

Suddenly he realized that if any of what he was thinking was true, he really did have rather important business at Hogwarts. However, he wasn't at all sure right now how he should go about it. Explaining Black's side of the story would mean admitting that he had met the man, which would essentially blow his cover. In case Harry wasn't believed, and Harry knew well enough from the previous summer that the word of an underage wizard like him did not count as much as it should have, Black's cover would be blown and he would have no way of hiding from the authorities. No, if there was any way for him to help Black, he would have to find out a lot more than he knew at the moment. He couldn't risk exposing him, especially since he had promised not to. If only he knew someone else who would at least hear this story out without laughing it off as completely incredible. If there was no one out there who knew that Peter Pettigrew could turn into a rat, was Black really telling the truth? If Black was such good friends with his parents, wouldn't he have had some other friends or family who would have known about this as well?

Harry made his way back towards The Three Broomsticks, starting to get hungry again after his walk. As he approached the village green, he saw Padfoot, still sitting out there, looking at him with forlorn eyes. Harry went up to him, making sure he remained within full view of the inn. The large dog watched him with wary eyes as Harry went up. Feeling a bit silly, Harry scratched him between the ears lightly. He knew dogs liked that sort of thing, but he didn't know how an animagus would react. Padfoot just whimpered and stretched, inviting him to do it again.

"I'm sorry about this," Harry told him, quietly, "I'm trying to figure some way out. In the meantime, just please stay out of trouble, won't you?"

Padfoot snorted, in indignation, Harry thought.

"Look, I'll head back to the inn in a bit, and I'll make sure you get some food. I can't take you with me; everyone would be suspicious. They know my aunt and uncle would never let me get a dog. And dogs aren't even allowed at Hogwarts; you know that."

Padfoot whined, but he nodded. Harry patted him again. He was about to head back into the inn, when he heard a familiar voice booming at him.

"Harry! What're yeh doin' here?"

"Hagrid!"

Harry panicked momentarily on seeing his friend, the massive gamekeeper, but as his wits caught up with him he reflected that Hagrid, of all people, would hardly think it odd for him to be consorting with a strange animal.

"Blimey, Harry! Don't yer know that everyone's lookin' out fer yeh? Heard that Fudge himself was looking in Diagon Alley."

"Why are people looking for me?"

"Harry, after what happened with yer aunt yesterday the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had to go over to yer house, didn't they? And when they didn't find yeh there, what d'yeh think would happen? Merlin, we all thought Sirius Black took you."

Padfoot growled softly at this, taking offense. Harry put a warning hand between his shoulder blades.

"That's a good dog yeh've got there; he's got the right idea. How'd yeh get up to Hogsmeade, anyhow? Why didn't yeh come straight to Hogwarts?"

"Erm, the Knight Bus dropped me off here. I was too tired to go up to Hogwarts right away, so I took a room at The Three Broomsticks. I just woke up about an hour ago, and Madam Rosemerta said she thought it was a bit late for me to go."

Hagrid nodded approvingly.

"She's got the right idea, Rosemerta has. Can't be too careful now, with that Black about. How he got out of Azkaban I'll never know," Hagrid shuddered, obviously remembering his own experience at the wizarding prison, before turning reprovingly towards Harry again, "But yeh could have sent an owl and saved us the worryin'."

Harry flushed. He had no idea so many people had been worried about him; that even the Minister for Magic had been looking out for him.

"Sorry, Hagrid."

"Well, yer safe; that's what's important," Hagrid said, gruffly, thumping Harry on the shoulder, "Now let's go send Dumbledore an owl."

"I'll get Hedwig," Harry said, but no sooner had he started back towards the inn that the owl landed on his shoulder, nipping him gently on the ear.

"Now that's a clever bird," said Hagrid, approvingly. He retrieved some parchment, a quill, and a tiny ink bottle from his numerous overflowing pockets, and wrote a quick note, which he attached to Hedwig's foot.

"Mind yeh get that straight to Professor Dumbledore now," he instructed the bird. Hedwig hooted and flew off over the Forbidden Forest towards the castle.

"Hagrid, what are you doing here anyway?"

It could have been Harry's imagination, but he thought he saw Hagrid blush in the fading evening light.

"I was jes down for a quick pick-me-up. Blimey, Harry, I've been worried about you all day."

"Sorry," Harry said again.

"ts'all right, Harry. Is this yer dog?" he asked, looking at the animal properly now that he no longer needed to worry.

"Sort of. It's been following me around. It's really friendly. I don't know if I should take it up to my room, though. It's not like I can take it to Hogwarts."

"Well, they won't let yeh have a dog that size in the dorms, that's right enough. But if yeh want, I could keep him out by my shack. Fang's been wantin' someone to play with anyhow."

Harry wasn't sure how Black would feel about being a playmate for Hagrid's enormous boarhound, but he yelped enthusiastically, apparently pleased at the prospect of staying close to the castle.

"That's a good dog. Fang'll like yeh. Now yeh stay here an' take care of Harry, all right, an' I'll come get yeh when come September."

"Thanks, Hagrid."

"Yer welcome, Harry. Now let's get yeh some dinner inside."

They made towards the inn, but they were stopped at the entrance by Madam Rosemerta's exclamation.

"Hagrid, I'll thank you not to let the boy think I'll let that creature into my nice, clean inn!"

"He's a really good dog," started Harry, but Rosemerta interrupted him.

"He's polite enough, I'll give you that, but he'll scare the other customers. He looks just like the grim. He can stay in the shed out back, and I'll make sure he's properly fed, but I can't let you have him upstairs, dear."

"Thanks," Harry said, inwardly slightly relieved, even as he felt bad about his excessive caution. Still, he wasn't sure he'd feel all that comfortable sharing a small bedroom with an escaped convict on the run who may or may not have betrayed Harry's own parents.

Padfoot whined softly, but let Harry and Rosemerta lead him out to the shed, where they settled him with a large plate of bones. Harry felt bad Black wasn't getting a real dinner, but he knew he'd earn another strange look from Rosemerta for asking for cooked food for a dog twice in one day. At any rate, Black seemed to be chewing the juicy bones happily enough, so Harry just patted him on the head, and returned with Rosemerta.

He joined Hagrid at a large table, while Rosemerta fetched a tankard of mead for the large man.

"Ta, Rosemerta," Hagrid said.

"And what about you, dear? Will you have some of our butter beer with your dinner?"

"Thanks," said Harry, eager to try a new Hogsmeade treat.

As Rosemerta left them to tend to the rest of her customers, it occurred to Harry that Hagrid might hold an answer to his earlier dilemma.

"Hagrid, you knew my parents, didn't you?" he started.

"'Course I did, Harry. A finer witch and wizard yeh'd never meet. Sharp as anything, both of them."

"D'you know if any of their friends are still around somewhere?"

Hagrid choked on his drink.

"Why'd yeh ask that, Harry?"

"I was just looking at those pictures you gave me the other day, and I was wondering, because some of them must still be alive, but I've never met any one who just knew them as friend, not a student or something like that. Someone who could tell me what they were really like. Didn't they have any friends?"

Hagrid had recovered somewhat as he spoke again.

"They had loads of friends, Harry. Very popular, they were, both of them. Now, some of them we lost in the war, like little Peter Pettigrew, bless his heart. Others, well," he said, as his expression turned dark, and Harry knew he was thinking of Sirius Black, "...they weren't all very loyal friends in the end. But there are still some of their friends out there if yeh want to talk to them. I got those pictures from some of them."

"Is there someone I can owl, or talk to? A really good friend of my Dad's?"

Hagrid's expression was still a bit dark, as he considered the question.

"Ye'd best talk to Remus Lupin," he said, finally. "Good friend of yer Dad's, he was. Professor Lupin, I should say. He'll be teaching yeh come September, too; Dumbledore's just fixed that. I'm sure he won't mind hearing from yeh. There's no one left who knew yer Dad as well as he did."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, enthusiastically. Finally, he had a lead, something to work with, and this was even better than he had expected. Lupin would be here in September; he would be teaching Harry at Hogwarts. Surely it wouldn't be so odd if Harry asked him a few questions about his own father. That way he could find out whether any of what Sirius Black had told him was true. And perhaps, just perhaps, he might be a person to whom Harry could confide about the giant black secret Harry was hiding in Madam Rosemerta's shed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Harry woke up bright and early the following morning, feeling well rested and somehow more comfortable than he was used to being during the summer holidays. It took him only moments to remember the strange events of the previous 36 hours, and realize that he was in a cozy room at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, not in Little Whinging with the Dursleys. He rose, determined to follow through on his resolution of the previous night while his courage was high. He scrounged around in his trunk for a bit of parchment, and sharpened and inked a quill, thinking of what he could say that wouldn't sound completely idiotic.

_Dear Professor Lupin,_

_I don't know if you know me, but Hagrid told me that you were a good friend of my father's at school. I was raised by my Muggle aunt and uncle, and I know hardly anything about my parents – only that my father was an excellent Quidditch player, and that they were Headboy and Headgirl at Hogwarts. I have so many questions about what they were like, as people, and I would really like to get to know them through someone who knew them closely. I was hoping you would be able to answer some of my questions, if it isn't too much of a bother. Please let me know if I can meet you or owl you over the summer. In any case, I look forward to meeting you in September, at Hogwarts._

_Harry Potter_

He looked over the letter, reasonably satisfied. He felt awkward writing to a complete stranger, especially one who would be his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in just a few months, and he couldn't help thinking of Quirrel, who had carried Voldemort around in the back of his head, and Lockhart, who had been nearly as dangerous in his own way, with his memory charms. But surely Lupin was nothing like that; he was a friend of Harry's father's, after all. Not that that was necessarily a comforting line of thought; Harry thought about that other friend of his father's, the fugitive in canine shape whom Harry was harboring in the woodshed. Harry shook off these thoughts, and sealed the letter. The sooner he could resolve this matter the sooner he would know what to make of Sirius Black.

Sending Hedwig off with the letter, he went downstairs and had breakfast. Rosmerta, who looked busier than she had been the previous day, told him that she'd fed the dog already, and that Harry could go let him out for the day if he wanted to. Harry ate quickly, and asked Rosmerta to pack him a large picnic lunch for later. He was feeling guilty for letting his godfather subsist food intended for a dog, and couldn't help thinking that he needed to do his bit to see that the emaciated man filled out a little.

Snuffles was delighted to be let out of the shed, and even happier, it seemed, to see that Harry quite obviously intended to spend the day with him. They walked through Hogsmeade together, and this time Harry finally took in the wonders of all the shops he'd ignored the day before. Snuffles waved his tail like a banner and played the part of the lovable pet to perfection, but Harry still noticed that a number of people shrunk away from the large creature, and wondered if it was his own celebrity that was eliciting that reaction, until he remembered what Madam Rosmerta had said the previous night, about scaring the customers at the inn. He resolved to ask Ron what a grim was when he wrote him next.

Snuffles, it seemed, was determined to give Harry a tour of all the delights of Hogsmeade, and led him slightly off the beaten track to Zonko's, from where Harry emerged with his money bag quite a bit lighter, with visions of all sorts of explosions in potions which would drive Snape into apoplectic fits. He passed by Gladrags more quickly, though Harry thought he caught Snuffles glancing wistfully at the window display, and felt another of those now familiar pangs of guilt when he thought about the tattered state of the robes Black had been wearing.

By this time Harry was beginning to get a bit peckish for lunch, and he had been planning to try to find a relatively isolated spot somewhere a little outside the village. Snuffles, it seemed, had other plans, and all but dragged Harry into Honeydukes. Harry rapidly stopped putting on any sort of resistance once he saw the array of sweets, so much more impressive than what he had seen the witch carry on her trolley on the Hogwarts Express. Harry could have browsed all day, but Snuffles wasn't done dragging him, and the moment the shopkeeper was occupied with another group of customers, he pointedly nudged Harry down an inconspicuous set of stairs at the back corner of the shop, into a large cellar. He led the way towards a dark corner, which Harry saw wasn't a corner at all, but the beginning of a passageway. His own curiosity reasserting itself, he lit his wand and followed Snuffles through the tunnel for a bit, until it widened into a small clearing. Snuffles paused, looked around, and transformed back into Sirius Black.

"What is this place? Where's this tunnel going?"

"To Hogwarts, of course. Haven't you found any of the secret passages?" Black asked, sounding a little disappointed.

Harry found himself answering a little defensively, "Well, I did find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."

Black's eyes widened.

"Merlin! How did you find that? We looked for years!"

"Well, you couldn't have opened it anyway, unless you're a parselmouth."

Black started visibly.

"You're a parselmouth?"

Harry flushed.

"Look, I'm not proud of it, all right? But Ron's sister Ginny was stuck in there. I had to open it, to save her."

Black laughed.

"Rescuing damsels in distress, already? Aren't you a bit young for that?"

"It's not like that!" Harry protested, "She's Ron's little sister!"

"So you keep saying. Well, I suppose you have a few years to figure these things out."

"Did you drag me down here just to give me a hard time?"

"Not exactly. I just thought... I know you have some doubts about me. I just thought we should get to know each other a little better. You should know what kind of a fugitive you're harboring."

"And you thought the best way to do this was to drag me to a dark isolated spot?" Harry wisecracked, feeling unusually daring, "You're lucky I'm not quite sensible, or I'd think you really were a mass-murderer."

"It's not luck, Harry, it's genetics. You really are your father's son. Although what Lily would make of such behavior I'm not sure. She'll be turning in her grave."

He caught himself, as though only just understanding what he was referring to, and stared at the floor, a look of utter sadness on his face. Harry felt deeply uncomfortable watching him, as though he were intruding on what ought to be a private mourning.

"Look," he said, awkwardly, "I'm sure they wouldn't blame you."

"Perhaps not, but that doesn't mean it's not my fault. Look, Harry, it wasn't really my plan to pull you into this. Your parents, they wanted me to take care of you in their place, but I know I lost that right a long time ago, and now look at you, taking care of me. All I want to do is to protect you from Peter Pettigrew."

"But I don't understand. How were you blamed for what he did? Didn't anyone else know he could turn into a rat? Why didn't you say anything at your trial?"

Black let out a bark-like laugh. "I never had a trial, Harry."

"What? Don't wizards have courts?"

"Yes, we do, but apparently the Ministry didn't think the procedures count for much in an open and shut case like mine. Dumbledore could have pushed for a trial, I suppose, but he mustn't have thought I deserved one either."

"Didn't you have any other friends?"

"Those were difficult times, Harry. I don't think you understand quite what it was like."

"Why do grownups always say things like that? Look, I've met Voldemort twice in the last two years; I think I might have some idea what it's like. Try me, why don't you?"

Black smiled.

"I never thought anyone would accuse me of being a grownup. All right, I'll try. You've probably been through more than most people ever did in the war, Harry, so you probably do have some idea what it was like, but it was different. It wasn't just one enemy lurking somewhere in the background. There was an actual war going on for most of my life; there were people dying everyday. There were some of us doing everything we could to fight the Death-Eaters, and even those of us fighting under Dumbledore knew that there was a traitor in our midst. We had all been friends, house-mates, comrades. There were no obvious suspects. We had no choice but to turn on our friends. I suspected the wrong friend. Remus probably suspected me. We both had good reasons; it turns out that we were both wrong. He wasn't going to defend me when his suspicions were proven right, even if anyone had listened to him."

"Do you mean Remus Lupin?"

"Yes. Do you know him at least, then?"

"No. That is, I've never met him. But I just wrote him a letter this morning. Hagrid told me about him yesterday. He's coming to Hogwarts to teach us Defense this year."

"What? They're letting Remus teach?"

"Why shouldn't they?"

"No, it's just... we were some of the worst troublemakers this school has seen."

Harry had an impression that Black was withholding something, but he didn't press on that point, eager to learn more about his father.

"Really? But wasn't my dad headboy?"

Black snorted.

"He was, and I never let him live it down. Still can't imagine what Dumbledore was thinking, unless it was to get him together with Lily. She never gave him the time of day before seventh year, when they were heads together. He wasn't Prefect, though, before that. That was Remus; he was the good boy, but he never managed to keep us out of any real trouble."

"He can't be any worse than the last two professors we've had."

"Actually, I'm quite sure Remus will be rather good. He's clever, that one, he knows his Defense, and he's got a wicked sense of humor hidden in there somewhere. You'll like him."

"If you like him so much why'd you suspect him, then? Why did he suspect you?"

"Harry, all my family was on the wrong side of this war. Nasty bunch of pureblood fanatics, they were. I left all that behind; ran away to your Dad's place when I was sixteen, but a lot of people didn't think I belonged in Dumbledore's order. Remus, he was our friend, but in times like those, when you knew someone was a traitor, it brought out everyone's worst qualities in terms of suspecting people. I don't know if he really did suspect me; maybe he didn't until afterwards, when it all seemed to fit together. As for me, I had my reasons too, and they weren't at all good ones. I haven't always been very good at keeping Remus's secrets, but he's kept mine, and I don't want to let him down again."

"D'you think he'll write me back, then?"

"What did you write him?"

"I just asked him if he'd want to tell me anything about my parents, since I don't know much about them."

"And you wanted to check up on me, then, but you didn't know how to ask."

Harry flushed, and mumbled, "Something like that."

"No, it was a good idea. You don't know anything about me, or your father. You should have someone you can talk to whom you trust a little more than an escaped prisoner who's supposed to be out to get you."

"I know at least that's not true. You've had plenty of chances to get at me, and you haven't done anything."

"You never know. I could be biding my time."

"Are you trying to get me to mistrust you? That's not a very good idea, since I'm the one getting you food and shelter."

"Touché, Harry, but I could survive on rats and other creatures in the forest. Look, I've already failed in my responsibility towards you; I know I'll manage to land back in Azkaban again. I just want to take Peter out before that happens, so that I know you're safe."

"Are you the only one out there who knows that Pettigrew can turn into a rat? Why can't we just report this to the Ministry?"

"Peter, James and I weren't registered animagi, Harry. The Ministry won't believe it. The only other person who knows about us is Remus, and he thinks Peter's been dead for twelve years."

"Professor Lupin knows that you can turn into a dog? He hasn't told the Ministry about you. Wouldn't he believe you, if you showed him the picture?"

"He might, if he didn't kill me first, for letting your parents down."

"Well, I won't let you talk to him straightaway."

"And how're you planning to bring up the subject that you're harboring a canine felon in the woodshed to a person you've never met, Harry?"

"I've got to do something, haven't I?"

"Actually, I'm telling you that you don't, Harry. I can see you're used to taking care of yourself but this is my responsibility. It's my fault he's out there, sleeping in your dormitory and biding his time, and I'll take care of him. I don't want to implicate you in any of this. You're not getting into trouble for my sake."

"If it's my parents he betrayed then I have some say in this too! I don't even know if you're telling the truth – all I know is that you're after my best friend's pet! Don't you think I deserve to know if Scabbers really did have anything to do with my parents' death?"

"I can't give you any proof until I get to Pettigrew, Harry."

"But how are you planning to get to him without my help? You can't just walk into Gryffindor tower and take Ron's pet. And if Professor Lupin knows all about you, don't you think he'll notice you if you do go with Hagrid?"

"I don't deny that Remus is something of an unexpected complication."

"He's been helping you all these years."

"Harry, he hates me. He has every reason to believe I led your parents to their deaths."

"I don't think it works like that. I have every reason to believe you led my parents to their deaths."

"Which brings us to something of a crucial point. What do you think of me?"

Harry blushed, glad that Black couldn't see him in the darkness.

"Well, I'm not sure, but I'm giving you a chance, aren't I?"

"Look, I don't blame you for wanting to talk to Remus, and wanting to check up on me. And I can't deny that he's the only person out there who could possibly believe that what I'm saying is true. But Remus... Harry, he's a very private person. I don't know if he'll want to talk about things like that. And he's very sharp, is Remus. If you ask him questions like that he'll know I've talked to you, Harry." Black shrugged, suddenly, "Look, there's a reason I didn't want to pull you into this. If Remus knows, or even suspects that I'm after you... He'll come after me, Harry. It's what I would do in his place. I can't stay with you any longer, Harry."

"Wait, where are you going?" yelled Harry. But it was too late. Black had transformed into Padfoot, and was fleeing down the tunnel. Harry ran after him, as quickly as he could, but it was no good. By the time he came out of the cellar, and back into Honeydukes, there was no sign of the large dog.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Harry wasn't able to find Black again that afternoon, and eventually returned to The Three Broomsticks without him. When Rosmerta asked after the dog, he told her to still leave out some food for him outside the shed. She pursed her lips, but did as he asked. Harry had an early dinner by himself, feeling vaguely miserable, without quite knowing why. He still didn't think he had done anything wrong, and Black himself had admitted that Harry had done the right thing to try and verify his information. And regardless of what Black said, it was his responsibility to do as much as he could. His parents were the ones who had been betrayed, after all. He deserved to know who was responsible. And whatever Sirius said, there was only so much he could do without endangering himself. If Scabbers really were an animagus (and even after having seen Sirius himself transform, Harry was still having trouble with that idea), it would be much easier for Harry and his friends to make sure he was properly captured and questioned. It scared him a little that Sirius was thinking in terms of murdering the rat.

In any case, what was done was done. Harry had already written to Professor Lupin, and the letter was sent. When he went up to his room after dinner, to avoid the increasingly boisterous crowd downstairs, he found that Hedwig had already returned with a reply for him.

_Dear Harry,_

_It was very nice to hear from you after all this time. Of course I know who you are; I played with you quite often as a baby. I would have been in touch with you earlier, but I didn't know how you would feel about meeting a complete stranger who once had the distinction of changing your diapers._

_Your parents were dear friends of mine, especially your father, and I would be happy to tell you anything you wish to know about them. I can to come up to Hogsmeade some time in the next few days if you would like to meet over the summer. In any case, I look forward to teaching you and your classmates when school starts._

_Remus Lupin._

Harry smiled in satisfaction at the friendly tone of the letter, and wrote back, setting up a meeting with his future professor. If Black was right about him, Lupin would be the first competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Harry would have, and apart from finding out about his parents and Black, Harry was curious to meet the man in his own right.

* * *

The next few days, as Harry waited for Lupin to arrive, were a bit lonely. The dog Snuffles never did return during the daytime, although Rosmerta told Harry that the food she left out for him was always gone by morning. Harry quickly got to know the village of Hogsmeade, and some of the regulars at The Three Broomsticks. He saw Hagrid at the pub a few times, and heard rumors that the Azkaban guards, known as Dementors, were on the prowl for Black, and might even be stationed around Hogsmeade itself. His urgency to act intensified, and he tried to come up with a plan for how to get Lupin to corroborate Black's story about the animagi. 

Finally, one morning, as Harry was finishing up breakfast, a stranger entered The Three Broomsticks, and approached Harry's table. He looked tired and worn, his robes were old and patched, and his brown hair was liberally infused with flecks of grey, but there was a quickness about his eyes that spoke to his obvious intelligence. When he came up to Harry and smiled, he looked years younger, and Harry realized that despite his haggard appearance this man had not yet quite approached middle age.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry stood up, hastily, shoving his breakfast aside.

"Professor Lupin, thank you for coming to see me."

"It was my pleasure, Harry. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Won't you sit down down?"

"Thank you, Harry."

Lupin sat down, across from Harry, looking at him intently. Harry flushed, slightly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be staring. We always knew that you had James's features, but the resemblance really is startling. If it weren't for your eyes, I wouldn't know you apart from James at that age."

Harry nodded, awkwardly, not knowing how he should respond. This wasn't the first time he had been told this, of course, but it never really got a lot easier. All of a sudden, he remembered why he hadn't asked Hagrid or any of his teachers about his parents; it was rather difficult to think about the life he should have had. But remaining ignorant was not the answer; difficult as it was, this was a conversation he needed to have. He wracked his brain, trying to think what he had meant to ask, but Lupin spoke before he had a chance to say anything.

"I shouldn't be embarrassing you into silence like this. You can ask me anything you like, Harry. I'll try and tell you whatever I know about James and Lily. It's the least I can do, after everything he did for me."

"How did you meet him?"

"On the Hogwarts Express. He ran into my compartment and asked me to hide him because a girl was chasing after him for pulling on her pigtails. Your mother, as it turns out."

Harry laughed. This was a side of his father none of his teachers had ever mentioned.

"Did it work?"

"Not particularly well. I didn't really have much to do, because James pulled on his invisibility cloak and plunked himself on the seat across from me. So when Lily came in and asked me about a boy with messy hair and glasses naturally I told her I'd seen no such creature. Unfortunately, she was tired after her run across the train, so she decided to sit down and catch her breath."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. Right on his lap. Not that James particularly minded, mind you. Even though she slapped him so sharply that the marks didn't fade until we got into Hogwarts. Of course, she didn't speak to me for years after that. She never did let on to McGonagall that we had the cloak, though. That was always a sign to James that she liked him despite all evidence to the contrary."

"So he got a lot of use out of the cloak, then?"

"More than I should probably tell you about, as your professor. We weren't exactly models of good discipline for most of our time at Hogwarts."

"He was a really good student, though, right? Not like me."

"James was very powerful and talented, of course, but for most of his time at Hogwarts he never particularly applied himself to schoolwork. Except in Transfiguration, which he really couldn't help being good at, he only did as much as he needed to get by. He always got a spell to work when he needed it, but he wasn't much for writing essays and doing homework. Very much like you, I imagine."

"No, I mean, I…"

"Professor Dumbledore has told me a little about your remarkable adventures, Harry. I don't think you're the kind of person to be defined by schoolwork. I also think you're a bit young to have found everything you're going to be good at. I wouldn't worry about it just yet," he smiled, "mind you, I'm not sure Lily would feel the same way. Our professors loved her, especially in Charms and Potions."

"Potions?" Harry asked, unable to keep all of his horror out of his voice.

Lupin smiled knowingly.

"I daresay our professor was a little different from yours, Harry."

"You knew Snape too, then, right? Why did he hate my dad so much? Dumbledore told me he saved Snape's life!"

Lupin's face darkened.

"Yes, well, Severus is not altogether wrong in that regard. It was an unfortunate prank, so to speak, by another… friend of ours. Snape would have died or worse if it had carried through all the way to the end. When James found out about it, he went in and saved Severus at great risk to his own life, but Severus always believed that we were all in on a plot to kill him until James got cold feet."

Harry frowned. He could tell that they were getting closer to the subject of Sirius Black, but this information was not promising. Black had tried to kill Snape? Not that Harry didn't sympathize, in a manner of speaking, but if he tried to kill someone while they were still at school, what might he not have done afterwards? Was he really as innocent as Harry was starting to believe?

"James had nothing to do with it, Harry. He was very brave that night, not least because he and Snape never liked one another. But regardless of that, James would never have let an innocent man suffer for something he didn't do."

Harry smiled, realizing that Lupin had misinterpreted his frown. But Lupin's words had unwittingly given Harry strength to do what he needed to do. He could be wrong, of course, as he had been before, about Tom Riddle and Quirrel, but if there was even a chance that Black was innocent, Harry needed to act, as his father would have done before him.

"Did you have any other friends? I've seen some pictures, and I wanted to be able attach some names to the faces."

Harry pulled out the album Hagrid had given him, and opened it to a page with pictures of his father with his friends, making sure that he'd be able to ask about Sirius, even if Lupin avoided the question.

"Yes, we did have other friends. There's Peter Pettigrew, right there. He was devoted to your father, absolutely. Admired everything James did: always wanted to be just like him, but never quite succeeded."

"I've heard, I mean…, and there's a picture in here that I thought… did you know Sirius Black?"

Lupin nodded, shortly.

"I did. Or thought I did. Where did you hear that?"

Harry gestured around the pub, vaguely, not wanting to incriminate anyone in particular, in case Lupin actually checked up on him. But Lupin just nodded, looking at the boyish picture of Sirius as though he could something beyond it, something that held all the answers of everything that had gone wrong.

"Yes, Rosmerta would remember. She was very fond of the pair of them, your father and Black. None of us ever thought… but I suppose we should have known. James would never have believed it, you know."

Lupin suddenly looked a lot older, and Harry felt a bit guilty for putting his plan into action.

"Did I tell you about my friends?" he said, with the air of changing the subject.

Lupin looked up, and smiled again.

"No. Why don't you tell me a little about them?"

"Well, there's Hermione Granger, she's Muggleborn, but she's the cleverest in our year, but she's really brave too, that's why she's in Gryffindor. The professors love her, and she's gotten us out of loads of trouble."

"Sounds familiar," said Lupin, his eyes twinkling, and although he didn't say as much, Harry realized that Lupin must have played a similar role for his father and Black.

"And my other best friend's Ron Weasley. He's mad for Quidditch, and he's really good at chess; you should have seen him, first year, against McGonagall's giant set. I don't have any pictures of all of us together, but wait," he pulled out the clipping that Ron had sent him earlier that summer, the very one that Sirius had carried with him, his heart thudding violently, "…here's a picture of Ron with his family, they're in Egypt now, visiting his older brother Bill. That's Percy, he's Headboy this year, and their sister Ginny, and the twins Fred and George, and that one's Ron, and that's his rat, Scabbers."

Lupin was staring at the picture of the Weasleys intently as he had been at Sirius's picture earlier. Clearly, he did know something, and Harry was gearing up to somehow ask the really difficult questions, reminding himself that he had really liked everything he had seen of Lupin so far, and besides, Lupin had kept Sirius's secret for years now, which had to mean something.

Just as Harry had nearly built up the courage to speak, Rosmerta came by.

"Is that you, Remus Lupin? It's been years since I've seen you here in Hogsmeade."

Lupin looked up, and smiled at her distractedly.

"I've been abroad for a few years, and traveling too much, really. You might see a bit more of me now, though. I'll be teaching up at the castle this year."

"Well, isn't that a treat! I'm sure you'll be wonderful. You always did have a knack for it. It's good to see you in here with young Harry."

"Yes, it's very nice to see Harry again."

"Harry, you should watch out for this one. He may not look it, but he's got a few tricks up his sleeve."

Harry nodded, and Rosmerta turned to leave, before turning back again.

"Did you ever figure out where that dog of yours disappeared, Harry? We can't have a big scary thing like him around frightening the villagers. We've got enough to worry about with Black on the loose and those Dementors out to catch him."

Harry shook his head, and let Rosmerta step back to the bar before he looked back and met Lupin's eyes again. Lupin was studying him intently, and Harry had the sense that Lupin was thinking rapidly. He was reminded of his earlier impression that he was dealing with a very clever man, indeed, and he wondered just how much Lupin already understood. Finally, Lupin spoke.

"Harry, I think we'd better have a little chat about what sorts of stories you've been hearing lately."


	5. Chapter 5

_Some direct quotes from PoA. _**  
**

_From the last chapter:  
_

Finally, Lupin spoke.

"Harry, I think we'd better have a little chat about what sorts of stories you've been hearing lately." 

**Chapter 5**

Harry blinked, wondering what he should say, when Lupin stood up, looking around the pub. Harry didn't know if he was glad or sorry for the sudden reprieve, and looked up, inquisitively.

"Would you mind taking a walk with me, Harry? I think we have some things we need to talk about."

Harry nodded and followed Lupin as he turned to leave. Rosmerta cast an inquisitive look at them, but Lupin cordially assured her he'd bring Harry back shortly, safe and sound. They stepped outside, and Lupin led Harry on a charming path a little away from the main thoroughfares.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry. But perhaps it's better if we're out of earshot. There's some things I should probably tell you, and I have a feeling you have a rather interesting story for me as well. Do I dare assume that you know what I'm talking about?"

Harry nodded, awkwardly. He was glad, in a way, that Lupin was taking the lead in this conversation. While he had carefully planned things out to the point of getting Lupin to look at what little evidence he had, his imagination had helped him very little in planning out what he actually would say. It sounded stupid to say that he had believed Black, because in all honesty Harry had found the story to be a little far-fetched, and despite what Black said about never having had a trial, he had trouble believing that no one had investigated any of this.

"I think so."

"And one other question: were you planning to have some sort of chat with me, or am I forcing you into this?"

"No. I mean, I didn't quite know what to say, but…"

"Good, that makes this easier for both of us. I once had three very close friends. And one way or another, I feel like I've seen all of them again today. It's rather a strange feeling, after so long. But I'm talking circles around this. We need to try and straighten some of this out. Shall we start with your dog? Padfoot, shall we call him?"

"Actually, he asked me to call him Snuffles."

"Snuffles? That's an interesting variation."

"He said there were still a few people out there who would recognize the other name."

"He probably meant me, although there might be one or two others who recognize it. You have talked to him, then. Forgive me, but I have to ask, he didn't do anything, or threaten you in any way?"

"No, he hasn't done anything. If he meant me any harm he's had plenty of chances."

Lupin nodded thoughtfully. Harry got the impression he was weighing what he should say, and that he wasn't sure how he, Harry, would react.

"That's something. Are you very fond of him, then?"

"I don't know."

Lupin looked at him, inquisitively.

"I mean, it's hard not to feel bad for him, isn't it? He really does look quite terrible, like he hasn't had a square meal in decades. But…, look, I didn't even know he was supposed to be after me until he told me himself, and he really has had a lot of chances to do something to me if he wanted to. But it's not like he's trying to make friends with me, either, exactly. He's very single-minded."

"I'm not sure if you realize, Harry, that he's been in a place which very few people have ever been able to leave with their sanity intact. And he was there for a very long time. I think we have to assume that he doesn't quite know what he's doing. He was a very close friend of your father's for a very long time before things went wrong. And, as I've already said, you do look uncannily like James. It's almost impossible to tell what Padfoot is thinking when he sees you."

"So you think he's mad, then?"

"It would be almost impossible for him not to be, at least a little bit. Of course, Padfoot does have a habit of achieving the impossible. How he got out of there when no one else has managed it is an abiding mystery. But you're the one who's talked to him. What did he have to say?"

"He's not insane, I don't think. He doesn't think I'm my Dad, though he did mention the resemblance. But everyone does that."

"And he told you the whole story, did he, and asked you to get in touch with me?"

"No, not at all. He wants me to stay out of the whole thing, actually. He says he just wanted to see me; he wouldn't even have talked to me if I hadn't been planning to go to the Weasleys. He didn't think it was safe, with Scabbers there. And he didn't want me to talk to you. He said you had every reason to want to kill him, and he wouldn't blame you. It's a bit frightening, actually; he says he just wants to commit the murder he was imprisoned for."

"He's frightened you?" Lupin asked sharply.

"No! Not like that. He's incredibly sorry about what happened; he thinks it's all his fault. And he's very intense, and that's a bit scary, sometimes, but he's funny, too, and he talks about my Dad all the time, and my Mum. He just… he doesn't think I should have anything to do with this, or you either. He says he wants to fix it by himself, so I'll be safe. I don't think he believes that anyone in the world cares about him at all."

"And what do you think?"

"Is it true that he never had a trial?"

Lupin nodded, sadly.

"Yes, that's true. He was sentenced directly. It was a difficult time, in some ways. Voldemort was gone, but they were trying to round up all the Death Eaters before they got away. Padfoot was apprehended at the scene of the crime. A dozen Muggles were dead, and all they found of Peter was finger. An entire street had been blown to pieces. And Dumbledore himself vouched for the fact that your parents had told him that he would be their secret-keeper. They didn't think he needed a trial. Even if he had had one there wouldn't have been much by way of a defense. There were a lot of trials like that in those days. Very few people wanted to testify in favor of suspected Death Eaters, or defend them."

"What is a secret-keeper, anyway? Snuffles mentioned it, but I don't quite understand what he meant."

"I don't suppose you're familiar with the Fidelius Charm, Harry? It's the concealment of a secret within a single living soul, the Secret Keeper. Other people may know the secret, if they're told directly by the Secret Keeper, but they aren't able to pass it on any further. That's how your parents were protected. The only person who could possibly have betrayed them to Voldemort was their Secret Keeper."

"And everyone believes that Snuffles was my parents' Secret Keeper?"

"Yes. They told all of us that they would use Padfoot, when they said their goodbyes. But there is one thing. Padfoot could have told any of us, and we wouldn't have been able to do anything with that information except to visit your parents. Even if they thought I was the traitor, they would have been perfectly safe. And he didn't. So you see, I really have no conclusive way of knowing whether or not they switched. And I don't think Professor Dumbledore does either. I know he didn't visit James and Lily after they said goodbye to all of us together."

"So could Padfoot have a trial now, if there's all of this missing evidence?"

"In theory, yes. But that's not what the Ministry have in mind for him if he's apprehended."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"How much do you know about Azkaban, Harry?"

"Not much. I know Hagrid was terrified of being sent there last year, because of the Azkaban guards. And I've heard over at the Three Broomsticks that they'll be sending those guards to guard the village and the school."

"They're discussing it, for the school year. Perhaps a little sooner, now that you're staying here, at the village. Professor Dumbledore's fighting it tooth and nail."

"Why? What's so scary about them?"

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain hope, peace, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Go too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself…soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And their worst weapon… It's called the Dementor's Kiss. It's what the dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. They clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and – and suck out his soul."

Harry shivered. Even on this warm summer's day, it was as though his idyllic Hogsmeade surroundings had receded, leaving him in some cold and lonely place.

"That's how they kill? By sucking out…" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Oh, no," said Lupin, "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you have no sense of soul anymore, no memory, no… anything. There's no chance of recovery. You'll just – exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever… lost."

"Is that what'll happen to – to Snuffles?"

"It's quite likely. He had a life sentence before. But now that he's escaped… No one's ever escaped from Azkaban before. If he's caught, I doubt they'd just throw him back there."

"He doesn't deserve that," Harry said, reflexively.

"Does anyone?" Lupin asked, lightly.

Harry blinked, not feeling up to an examination of his ethics. He was uncomfortably aware that there were those in the world that he might otherwise have happily subjected to such a fate, but having seen Black's state, it was hard to wish such a destiny on just about anyone except perhaps Voldemort himself.

"I don't know. But I think I understand a little better why he's so desperate; why he thinks he's so alone. I don't think he's even thought about being properly free. He just wants to kill Scabbers before he's sent back."

Lupin shook his head in remorse.

"If he's innocent, he should never have gone haring off after Wormtail in the first place. He still had friends then, if he had bothered to explain things… if he hadn't been found laughing at the scene of the crime. But that was always Padfoot, acting before he thought. If it had ever crossed my mind that it happened any other way…"

"If he's telling the truth, I don't want him to become a murderer just for me. And I'm not a little kid, either; I'm in a better position than he is to do something about this, and I wish he'd understand that."

"So do you think he is telling the truth now?"

"I want to believe him, but I don't know that, do I? I've made mistakes about whom to trust and whom not to before. You've seen the picture. Scabbers is my best friend's pet. He's lived in the same dormitory with me for two years now. He bit Goyle for us back in first year. It's very difficult for me to believe that he's been there all this time if he meant me harm. I didn't even know wizards could go around turning into animals. I don't know what to think."

Lupin sighed.

"Yes, I suppose it's my turn to tell you what I know. Wormtail, like your father and Padfoot, was an animagus. A rat, as Padfoot seems to have told you, and one that bore an uncanny resemblance to that photograph you showed me. And the missing toe – I told you, didn't I, that the largest piece of him they ever found was a finger?" He shook his head slightly, as if trying and failing to see something in his mind's eye, "If Sirius was going after him, and he transformed in self defense, it's actually quite unlikely that a finger would just have been spelled off. And he hasn't shown himself in twelve years, which is a sign too. Even if he wasn't sure early on, he'd have to have found out in all these years that Voldemort isn't exactly a danger anymore. Especially living with a wizarding family. Do you know how long he's been with the Weasleys?"

"I think it's been a while. He used to belong to Percy, but after he became a prefect he got an owl and Ron got Scabbers."

"Ordinary garden rats don't live that long. Unless it's some sort of magical rat… does he do tricks or anything?"

"Not really, he just eats and sleeps. Except for that one time, when he bit Goyle."

"Right. If it were a real trained magical rat he'd show off and do tricks all the time."

"So is there any way to make sure if it's him?"

"I can think of several, at close range, but if your friend's still in Egypt there's very little we can do."

"If it is him he should have a trial and go to prison. I don't want Snuffles to kill him and go back there."

"You're right, of course, although if he's telling the truth I can't say I blame Padfoot." Lupin was wearing a grim, determined expression, that rather startled Harry, who had grown accustomed to his pleasant comforting features. "Where is he now, anyway?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you, he didn't want me to get in touch with you. It didn't make any sense. He said all sorts of great things about you, said you'd be a fantastic teacher, but when I told him I'd owled you already, he said he couldn't risk having you turn him in. He's run away. I have no idea where he is right now."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It had been nearly three weeks since Professor Lupin had first visited Harry, and still the two of them hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of Sirius Black. They had sent him owls via Hedwig, but though the owl never returned without the letters, she never brought a response either. Sirius seemed to be taking his promise to keep his friends out of this a little too seriously, much to Harry's frustration. He and Lupin had discussed going before Dumbledore with the whole matter, but ultimately caution had overruled, and they had decided this approach would be best made later in the school year, when they could take Scabbers and confront Dumbledore with the evidence.

Harry was getting used to life at The Three Broomsticks. Most of the locals recognized him by now, and he wasn't gawked at anymore. Hagrid came up fairly regularly from the school, and Professor Lupin had made time to visit several times. Harry enjoyed his time with the older wizard a great deal. Properly prodded, Lupin was full of stories about Harry's parents and their other friends, and now that both of them could stand to hear stories featuring Sirius Black without misgivings the repertoire of reminiscences was far broader. Neither of them liked to talk very often about Peter Pettigrew, of course, but fortunately the latter had never featured very prominently in the Marauders' more ambitious capers.

Harry was beginning to see just why McGonagall seemed to view his antics with particular suspicion; apparently her experience with his father had taught her to expect that Potters had a healthy disdain for playing quite by the rules. And he was enjoying Lupin's company for his own sake. He was an engaging conversationalist, clever, amusing and thoughtful. He never talked down to Harry, yet Harry often came away from their conversations feeling as though he had learnt a good deal more about the wizarding world than he had managed in two years at Hogwarts. Lupin had traveled widely, and occasionally shared anecdotes about penetrating the depths of the Amazon rainforests, and learning tricks from the fakirs of India. In their own way Lupin's stories were just as fantastic as the tales of Lockhart's exploits (Harry would never forget his own role in the reenactments of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf), but they were told so matter-of-factly, and Lupin tried too hard to keep himself from featuring too prominently in them, that Harry, and Madam Rosmerta's other regulars, couldn't help believing him. Harry had never considered himself particularly academically minded, but for once he could understand why even people like Hermione, who had pleasant homes and families, might look forward to the school year.

Yet as much as Harry enjoyed Lupin's company, he still found himself missing his school friends. He couldn't wait to see Ron and Hermione, of course, but he found it a strange experience being in the wizarding world and not seeing familiar faces like Dean, or Neville, or even some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs like Terry Boot and Ernie MacMillan. Hogsmeade was the only fully wizarding settlement in Britain, yet Harry wasn't sure how long it would survive that way given that it didn't seem to have any children of Hogwarts age to speak of.

Though he knew he would be seeing them soon, Harry found himself writing long letters to Ron and Hermione. He was brimming with news, and apart from Lupin, there was no one he could confide in. There was much, of course, that he had to conceal, since he certainly could not tell them about what he had learnt about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew until he saw them in person, and even then until they could be sure of their privacy. Nevertheless, he found himself writing about Professor Lupin, and some of what he had learnt about his parents.

The day before he was supposed to return to return to Hogwarts, Harry found himself taking the floo to the Leaky Cauldron to do his shopping in Diagon Alley. Harry had been a little surprised to find that he wouldn't get what he needed for school in the Hogsmeade shops, but since there were so few children here, it wasn't particularly strange. Harry was beginning to see why he had found all his classmates, even those from the North who lived much closer to Hogwarts were still to be found on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry knew that there had been some controversy about his safety in visiting London alone, but Hagrid told him that Dumbledore had finally decided that he would be allowed to floo to London by himself, and the Weasleys would be meeting him there. As much as Harry enjoyed his modicum of independence, he had hoped at the back of his mind that Lupin would have wanted to accompany him, but apparently Lupin was busy, and Harry didn't expect to see him now until he was back at Hogwarts. He bid a regretful goodbye to Madam Rosmerta and a few of the regulars at The Three Broomsticks, knowing that without a signed permission slip his chances of being able to come out for Hogsmeade weekends to see his new friends were slim.

He took a pinch of floo powder, steeling himself for the unpleasant sensation, making sure this time to enunciate clearly so that he ended up at The Leaky Cauldron. Ron and his family didn't seem to have arrived quite yet, and after all the precautions taken on his behalf, Harry didn't think Dumbledore would approve of him wandering the Alley by himself, however little he may have thought himself to be at risk. He nodded at Tom, the innkeeper, ordering a cup of tea and settled down, picking up a copy of The Daily Prophet that someone had left on the bar counter. He had barely taken a sip from his steaming cup when he took a closer look at the headline, snorting as his tea went up his nostrils. The front page bore a picture of a plump, balding man with a peculiar shifty look in his eyes. The accompanying headline screamed:

BLACK VICTIM ALIVE: PETER PETTIGREW TELLS ALL.

As the wizarding world lives in fear of another rampage by the escaped prisoner Sirius Black, it turns out that at least one of his victims had a miraculous escape twelve years ago. Order of Merlin honoree Peter Pettigrew, the wizard whom Black was targeting when he caused the explosion of a street full of Muggles, apparently managed to survive the brutal attack. Pettigrew was found in Cairo yesterday, when he appeared at the Magical British Consulate carrying a newspaper with a photograph of Black.

Apparently, Pettigrew has suffered from amnesia since the attack, and his memory was triggered when he saw Black's photograph in a British newspaper he managed to find in Cairo. "This is a man who has suffered deeply," said a Ministry spokesman, "Pettigrew has lived among Muggles in a foreign country for twelve years. His memory is still hazy, and we may never completely understand everything he has endured."

The details of how Pettigrew survived, and how he ended up in Egypt with amnesia is still unknown. Sources at St. Mungo's said that it is possible for someone in Pettigrew's position to have disapparated reflexively to escape the attack, without knowing his exact destination. "Pettigrew is lucky he didn't find himself splinched across three countries," said Assistant Healer Augustus Pye. Pye also said that while Pettigrew's memory loss might have been caused by the trauma of the incident, it is possible that he may have been obliviated by Black himself.

Pettigrew has been offered all possible support by the Ministry of Magic, and it is expected that he will return to Britain shortly. "The Ministry will do everything it can to secure Mr. Pettigrew's safety," promised Minister Fudge, "We ask the wizarding world to take comfort in Mr. Pettigrew's return. We are confident that armed with the insights of this man who knew Black so closely, we will have no problem in apprehending this dangerous criminal before long."

Harry blanched, unable to believe what he was reading. He stumbled up, determined to find Lupin, and figure out what to do about Sirius. Before he took two steps, he was intercepted by Ron, who grabbed him and shook his hand vigorously.

"Finally! I thought we'd never get everyone ready to leave. It's good to see you, mate!"

But Harry could hardly focus on his friend properly.

"Where's Scabbers, Ron? D'you have him with you?"

Ron's face fell.

"No, mate! I think he ran away. I couldn't find him anywhere when we were getting ready to leave Egypt. Poor fellow must be dead by now; he was in really bad shape towards the end."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Harry was extremely distracted that day, a fact that his friends could hardly miss as they took him around Diagon Alley picking up their school supplies. He actually made the clerk at Flourish and Blotts cry when, after the poor man had braved the cage full of Monster Book of Monsters to pick up three copies for Harry, Ron and Hermione, Harry distractedly muttered that he already had a copy from Hagrid, and it was only Mrs. Weasley's timely intervention that prevented him from coming away from Madam Malkin's with robes in every color of the rainbow. While Ron and his brothers were extremely taken with the Firebolt on display in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, Harry could hardly bring himself to take a look, and he was genuinely mystified when Ron snorted good-naturedly after Harry had sincerely assured Hermione that Crookshanks would make a very attractive pet, without so much as having glanced at the creature.

Harry, of course, was still trying to piece out in his mind what it meant that Pettigrew had come out of hiding. He was desperate to talk to Lupin, since he felt that only the older man would be able to help him make sense of this crisis, and part of him was caught up in despair that the two of them had decided not to take the matter to Dumbledore before this. He wanted to confide in his friends, but they hardly had much privacy from Ron's large family, and besides, his thoughts were too unsettled for him to know what he wanted to say. He was, moreover, especially irked by all the safety measures that were being taken on his behalf, and the menacing poster of Sirius Black caused in him a sharp pang of guilt every time he passed by it. He knew in some way it was his own fault that Pettigrew had chosen to go public; if he had left the safety of the Weasleys' home then it could only be because he had grown apprehensive about being recognized.

Harry managed to calm down enough to enjoy dinner with the Weasleys and Hermione that night. No one mentioned the sudden reappearance of Peter Pettigrew, although that was certainly the biggest news event of the day. Harry knew this was probably out of deference to him, since no one, apart from Lupin and Black himself, had seen fit to mention Black and Pettigrew's connection to Harry to him, and the Weasleys probably assumed that he was entirely ignorant of it. Still, whatever the reason, Harry appreciated the opportunity to distract himself from the thoughts that had been hounding him all day since he'd seen the newspaper.

Harry's hypothesis that the Weasleys believed him to be completely ignorant of the connection between Sirius Black and himself was confirmed when he went downstairs to get away from Ron and Percy fighting over the latter's headboy badge in the next room, and found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley fighting over whether or not he should be warned about Black coming after him. Harry remained in the dark bar area, wondering what Mrs. Weasley would think if she found out that Black had come for him already, and that through him, Harry had discovered a new connection to his parents. His heart clenched in that familiar way as it had all morning, and he wondered what he would do to extricate Sirius from this new conundrum, wondered once again where Sirius even was. And it occurred to him suddenly that he was thinking of Sirius, not Black. Not once this entire day had he considered that Pettigrew might be telling some manner of the truth. He had told himself this entire while that he awaited proof of Sirius's innocence, but now, as it became apparent that proof might be difficult to come by, he realized that he didn't require it any more. He believed Sirius, he wanted to defend him to Mrs. Weasley, and the whole world, but first he needed to figure out how he could prove his innocence.

The following day, Harry hardly had a chance to think in the morning as the large party rushed to get ready in time for the train. If they didn't have the Ministry cars escorting them they might well have been late, and by the time Harry got on the train, after he had been pulled aside by Mr. Weasley for a confidential warning that had him feeling all the more guilty, it was nearly about to leave. Ron and Hermione had waited for him, and they found that most of the compartments were already full, until they found one at the end of the train that was nearly empty.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed loudly, entering the compartment. He was slightly embarrassed a moment later as Lupin looked up, groggily, showing clear signs of exhaustion.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have disturbed your rest; I'll let you get back to sleep," he said, but Lupin was already sitting up, smiling at Harry and his friends

"No, it's good to see you, Harry. Come in, sit down."

As Harry and his friends took their seats, Lupin stretched and seated himself again, greeting Harry's friends affably. Hermione showed signs of wanting to monopolize the conversation, very interested in speaking to a teacher at such close quarters, and especially one of whom Harry had written so warmly. Harry, however, was too preoccupied with his own worries to allow her to monopolize the conversation in this way.

"Professor," he interrupted, "I think we need to talk."

Lupin looked up, his eyes alert, despite his fatigue.

"Have you updated your friends about any of this yet, Harry? And what about…?" his eyes flicked to Ron, meaningfully, as though there was something he was unwilling to say out loud.

"Well, no. I haven't had a chance to talk to them quietly. But we really need to talk now. Especially given recent events, it throws all our plans off."

"What recent events?" Lupin looked mystified.

"You mean you haven't heard? It was all over yesterday's Prophet!"

"I've been… out of sorts for the last day or so. I'm still recovering, really. I haven't seen anything. You don't mean they've caught…"

"Merlin, no! But it's nearly as bad. Pettigrew's back."

"And what about…?" His eyes flicked to Ron again, and this time Harry understood what Lupin meant.

"Oh, Scabbers disappeared, of course, in Egypt, where Pettigrew turned up."

"So he was right then."

"Yes, but this doesn't help us any."

Ron and Hermione were looking at the two of them, completely flummoxed by the strange conversation. Lupin smiled suddenly, sitting back.

"At least we can talk freely in here, then. Harry, if you're planning to tell your friends about this why don't we take the story from the beginning? I'm not sure I ever got the full details from you, either, and I certainly haven't heard about these developments. Just give me a moment." He pulled out his wand and cast a couple of enchantments on the door, then turned back to give Harry his full attention, "It'll keep anyone from overhearing us, and give a bit of a warning if there's someone coming."

All of them were looking at Harry now. He told his story from the beginning this time, with Ron and Hermione frequently exclaiming at his foolhardiness, and wondering at the danger he had put himself into. Lupin was quiet, though, and Harry privately felt that his presence kept at least Hermione from expressing her disapproval as vehemently as she otherwise might have done. At least she approved of his conduct in contacting Lupin, although even that was muted when she learnt about the secrets Lupin had kept. At length he recounted the events of the previous day, and at this his reaction was immediate and violent. Ron swore loudly and feelingly, unable to contradict this apparent evidence that his pet rat had really been a traitor in disguise. Hermione, who had so far been skeptical of Harry's claims on Sirius's behalf, was also outraged. Lupin, who had broadly understood what Harry had meant earlier, looked thoughtful.

"I should have expected this. Harry, obviously you mentioned none of this to Ron in your letters, but is there anything that might have tipped Pettigrew off?"

"Well, I told him I'd met you, and that you'd started to tell me about my parents."

"That might have been enough, I'm afraid. He knows I know his secret."

"But what can he have been thinking? Isn't it going to raise a lot of suspicion, his reappearing like this, after all this time?" This was from Hermione.

Lupin shook his head.

"Peter always had a strong sense of self-preservation. That was partly why he stuck with James and Sirius, or at least I used to think that at the beginning, before we got to be good friends. And that may have been what drew him over to Voldemort, too. But he's also lazy, and he doesn't completely think things through before he does them. With any other person, I'd wonder at spending twelve years as a pet, but it fits with Peter, somehow. And now, I don't think he's fully considered that his reappearing actually reduces the charges against Sirius. All he's thought about is that somehow Sirius may have figured out where he is, and knowing that I'm coming back to Hogwarts, he may have thought that I could recognize him as well."

"But now that he's famous, won't Sirius know exactly where to find him?"

"Yes, that's exactly what he probably hasn't considered. I expect all he thought about was that it would be too comfortable being a street rat in Cairo. And he probably also enjoys the fame; he did always consider himself to be overlooked when we were younger."

"If he's the way you describe him didn't you know he'd be likely to let you down in something this important?" This was from Ron, always blunt and unambiguous in his emotions.

"It wasn't that simple, Ron. He was our friend, a good friend, we thought, after all that time. He certainly wasn't the most suspicious of us. I'd half-suspected Sirius for a time, although I certainly never thought he'd let James down until I heard of what had happened that Halloween. And Sirius had what I have to admit were fair reasons for suspecting me of the same. Peter was good at making himself innocuous. I'm still not convinced he did it out of premeditated hatred or betrayal. With him it's far more likely that one step just led to another."

"But what are we going to do about Sirius now?" Harry interjected. All this philosophizing was all very well, but he needed some kind of plan now, to protect his godfather.

"I think we can assume that if we don't manage to find him he'll go after Peter as he told you he would."

Harry groaned.

"Why is he such an idiot? Doesn't he see that this is proof that he couldn't possibly have committed the murder he was imprisoned for?"

"It's not so simple, Harry. The evidence is purely circumstantial, and that only for those of us who knew that Peter was an animagus. For the Ministry, there's rather a lot of dots to connect. And it wasn't just Peter, either; don't forget the twelve Muggles. And any eyewitnesses would have been obliviated years ago."

"So what are we going to do now?"

"I'll admit I'm tempted just to help Sirius along. That he could do this to James and Sirius – it's no less than he deserves."

There was steel in Lupin's voice, and Harry looked at him in a kind of horror. It was one thing to hear Sirius talk of such things, Sirius who fit everyone's mental picture of a ragged deranged convict, but this, from his mild mannered professor whom Harry had come to think of as being so very reasonable, was both chilling and moving. Harry hoped that he had this kind of loyalty for Ron and Hermione, but as much as he was no stranger to death and self-defense, he could not contemplate himself plotting cold-blooded murder on their behalf.

"You can't do that!" it was Hermione who made her outrage known.

"Of course not," Lupin agreed, in his usual mild tone, "for one thing, we're still left with the problem of finding him, and if we can manage that I'm sure we can come up with a palatable solution."

"Do you have any idea where he might be hiding?"

"There was one obvious spot which I've already checked, but then he'd know that I'd look for him there. Harry, you said that Hedwig's been finding him alright?"

"Yes, she always comes back without her letters, at any rate, and she seems pretty pleased with herself – I think she'd complain more if she hadn't found him."

"How long does it take for her to return when you send her?"

"A couple of days, usually. Why?"

"A couple days from Scotland means that she almost certainly is flying south. No where else on the British Isles would take that long, unless it were some of the more distant islands, like the Orkneys, but I doubt Sirius would return that close to Azkaban. And it's too short for the continent. Probably London, then, but it could be the Southern counties or even the midlands. London's easiest to hide in, though."

"Where in London, though?"

"Harry, when he offered to run away with you, did he suggest any places you might go to?"

"Well, he said he had a house, now that his Mum was dead."

"Yes of course, Grimmauld Place! He'd be well hidden there."

"You know his house?"

"I remember the address. I've never been; I wouldn't have been very welcome, I'm afraid. Sirius managed to get himself disowned when he was sixteen, and even before that he spent most of the summers at your grandparents', Harry. I don't believe the house was a very pleasant place."

"But will he have gone there, if you know where it is?"

"He may well have. He'd be very safe there; I'm sure there's all sorts of protections. Even though I know the address I'd have a hard time getting there, and an even harder time getting in."

"Will you go, then?"

"I might try, but there's a better way to try and get in touch with him if he's really there."

But Lupin didn't answer Harry's question directly.

"I think the time may have come to take Dumbledore into our confidence about this. I've broken into the Headmaster's office before, and I daresay I'm up for it again, but intractable problems have an uncanny way of becoming a bit easier when he knows what we're up to."


End file.
